


Sing your song to my soul

by AllLoveIsEqual



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Art, Café, Dominance, Literature, Love, M/M, bxb - Freeform, larry - Freeform, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllLoveIsEqual/pseuds/AllLoveIsEqual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam thought this would be a boring job, one he accepted because he is in desperate need of money. He thought that each day he’d be following the same routine: Make coffee, serve customers, put on a smile. He never, not for one second, imagined this boy to appear out of the blue. Sitting at the same corner of the coffee at approximately half-past-twelve every day with a book in hand and knees tucked gently behind one arm. He never expected to mess up orders and trip over chairs just because his eyes are adhered to the ethereal beauty in front of him.   He never expected to fall in love.   Or the one where Liam works at a café as a Barista and Zayn is an English student who enjoys reading at his special corner in the café and Liam thinks of a hundred ways to get his attention—making a fool out of himself during the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He sighs for the third time that morning. His twitchy fingers scratch at a newly formed stubble at the base of his rounded chin, lips puckered together and milk coffee eyes regard gleefully at the pair of satisfied customers leaving the shop.

It’s not that he hates this job, he just…hates this job.

It’s the same old thing, you see: he gets up at the early hours of the winter morning, the sun yet to peek out the dark horizon of the Birmingham skyline, the deafening silence overbearing and the city just awakening, gets changed into his dreary work clothes – black and black, how mundane – and forces his legs to move out his run down flat and towards the city centre to open up the café he’s been working in for the past year or two.

He lazily scratches at the cool metal of the coffee machine beside him. He hears the faint ringing of the bell and feels the rush of winter air blast through the open door, a man clad in winter clothing – a scarf with a burst of colour, a grey jacket fitting tightly around a loose figure – with hands deep in large jacket pockets walks in with quivering lips. Liam smirks because he can tell from a mile that this kid’s not from here; he whispers a single laugh because, Mate, if you think this is cold, wait ‘til December comes. Then you’ll know what it’s like to freeze your tits off. 

Still, when the guy finally makes it to the cashier and lowers his scarf so a little bit more of his neck is exposed under the bright white light of the shop, illuminating the shop like a supernova within the inky blackness of the universe, he smiles gently at him.

“How can I help ya?” he speaks as if the words came out a fairy’s mouth – so soft, so gentle – with a smile hanging loose against the edges of his lips.

“I’ll just h-have a white m-mocha, please,” the man says slowly, pushing the words out with a shivering tongue.

“Not too cold a morning, is it?” he inquires, amused by the man in front of him. “I mean, aren’t you used to it?”

The man gives a weak shake of his head. “Not from these parts.”

It’s only then that he detects the accent in his voice. Cornish, he thinks while beginning to make his order. The clock behind the counter beeps three times and a weak mechanised voice echoes out an “It’s Nine AM.” Liam’s looks out the window and stares into the twilight morning. There’s a blotch of purple and pink in the sky, like a kid was painting with fingers and managed to spill a pot of purple and pink on the canvas, and in the distance, over the looming figures of the office buildings, he sees the domineering presence of the sun break the sky in an explosion of orange and yellow and it cascades down towards the Cathedral beside the café and over the small park beside it.

He’s too enraptured by the sight that he briefly forgets about the coffee in his hands and the man has to give a forced clearing of his throat to break him from his reverie. He snaps out of it and gives a meek ‘sorry’ before handing his order to him.

This is why he thinks he never did that well in school. He is easily distracted, mainly by beautiful objects and people and sometimes of his dream to one day be able to play professional football. But the days have gone past and time has acted against him. He’s at the age of twenty two and still his life’s within the grasp of utter turmoil.

The guy regards him for a while, the brown in his eyes become more prominent, like freshly toiled soil on the first day of spring. “Thanks, Liam.” He gives a nod of his head and extends his hands wanting to shake Liam’s. “The name’s Alex.”

Liam’s looking at him warily, the sound of the kettle boiling behind him being accompanied by a high pitched yet slightly annoyed voice whispering profanities – “Boys are fucking dick’eads” “Fucking giving you attention one minute then snogging a desperate bitch the next” “I’m too fucking amazing for this bullshit” – and he extends his arms to accept the greeting. Alex gives a smile and it looks like the cold has suddenly dispersed into the air and vanished as nothing but warmth radiates through those white set of teeth. With another nod of his head, he walks off and out the door, swallowed by the brutal winter air once more.

Now there’s pots banging and cups clanging and Liam groans because it’s too early for this shit. So he turns sharply and faces his co-worker and best friend, who is now taking all his anger out on a bag of coffee beans he can’t seem to get open. Liam scoffs and takes the bag out of his tiny hands. A set of ocean-blue eyes give him a death glare and perky lips press into a thin line, holding words of anger he dares not say because he’s really fortunate to have Liam as a best friend.

Liam opens the bag with ease and sniggers jokingly at his best friend. “What’s up with you today, princess?”

“Fuck off, Payne,” he replies bitterly, “‘m not in the mood, yeah.”

“Why aren’t you in the mood, Lou?” Liam asks with concerned lips and eyes pooled with worry. A set of teeth gently bites down on chapped lips—victims of winter’s merciless bite. “Louis?”

Louis snatches the coffee bag from his hands and begins to forcefully send the little beans into the container. There’s a flame in Louis’ eyes, a fight of ‘Shall I’ or ‘Shall I not’ before a sigh extinguishes the flames and the ocean in his eyes becomes a thunder storm. Then it dies away, like a leaf falling from the tree it’s grown up on, losing the one thing it’s always known, and all that is left are the ripples of water after a stone breaks the surface on a quiet morning. Worry strikes Liam so unexpectedly because this isn’t like Louis. No, he’s always sassy and bitchy and a diva and everything you’d hate in a best mate but love in a best mate. He’s never this broken.

“Have you ever…” Louis starts, his voice croaky and the words bundle into a knot at the pit of his throat, “loved someone, Liam?”

Liam is taken back a little. His mind wandering to those petty dates with Danielle and the time he may or may not have gone out on a day with a boy called Luke because his smile was just too infectious and his laugh was just too adorable for him to ignore. No, he doesn’t think he’s ever been truly in love.

He gives a meek shake of his head. “Nah, mate. Don’t think I ever ‘ave.”

There’s a disappointed sigh from Louis and pain echoes the smile he forces on. Liam wants to know what’s wrong but Louis’ already pushing past him and beginning to get the milk out the storage room and the door moans another Cling! And a Clang! as another customer walks through the doors.  
-  
The morning goes by slowly, Liam always looking around to check on Louis, who has been doing pretty badly. Liam watched helplessly as Louis basically chucked all the used cups and dishes onto his dirty equipment tray with a rage he should be showing to whatever idiot made him feel like this. Then Liam watched as Louis made and served coffee with sombre eyes as he placed the used cups and plates into the recently emptied dishwasher.

It’s is nearing twelve and Liam is worried Louis will just get moodier by the time Lunch Rush begins. Thankfully his other co-worker and friend, Niall, has a shift from twelve until six, so he’ll be here to help.

The first stream of customers start to filter in and Liam starts to panic because Niall is nowhere to be seen. Louis doesn’t seem to care and continues sulking and grumbling – “Oh great, here comes happy people with their happy lives and I’m so fucking happy for them” “yeah, love, you’re holding his hand now but wait one day and that bitch be sneaking off to shag another whore” “fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that beast of a woman” – and the worry in Liam’s veins become worse as if it was a slow acting poison waiting for the right moment to debilitate his system.

They manage to get through the first batch of customers, most of them sitting with their friends on the wooden tables with a content smile on their faces. Some, however, faced the wrath of The Tomlinson and got a spiel on how they were being ‘impatient sons of bastards’ and a cup of coffee shoved abruptly in front of their shocked faces.

When Liam sees a blonde tuft of hair shining radiantly under a thin ray of sunlight that’s poking out a group of forlorn clouds littering the ominous grey sky, Liam’s shoulders relax a little and he relents from biting down on his lips. He’s pissed off at Niall for being late but happy he doesn’t have to deal with Queen Diva over here all by himself.

“Sorry, lads, ‘ad ta go and pick up our new employee,” Niall explains with a bowed head.

Liam and Louis only then realise the small girl behind him who’s sporting a gentle blush upon sweet cheeks and pursed lips betraying the fiery passion burning behind her green eyes. Her frame is slim with a ponytailed blonde hair falling just halfway down her back. Her eyes wander around the shop as if she’s just been transported to a whole other country and when she notices Liam and Louis stares, she blushes again and hides behind Niall’s more firm and rigid body.

“Her name is Sarah, and she’s starting today.” Niall continues, a smirk on his face as he gently pats Sarah’s shoulders, which tremble at his touch and Liam wonders if it might just shatter, they look that fragile.

“And you decided that a lunch hour would be the best time to train her?” Liam asks completely flummoxed. “You’re crazy, mate.”

It is as if it was fate as hordes of customers begin to pour into the shop like a bottle of Coca-Cola finally being relieved of all the pressure it’s built up. Niall gently pushes Sarah behind the counter and listens for the orders each customer are telling Liam and Louis, starting on them as soon as the word leaves their lips. Sarah’s watching intently at the way Niall is making the orders and scoffs a little when he hears Louis whisper quite loudly, “slow down there, love, you ain’t no royalty so don’t act like one, yeah. We all gotta queue up. Don’t like it? Then leave.”

Liam’s looking over with a smile on his face and answers the questions Sarah’s wondering but doesn’t want to ask. “He’s in the middle of a dramatic crisis and his dad owns this café so he can’t really get fired. Think of him as the non-official manager.”

Sarah nods and continues to pay attention to Niall who is lost in the making of a chocolate Frappuccino. The line gets shorter and shorter as order after order is chucked relentlessly at Niall and Louis. Halfway into the hour even Sarah has started to make the basic orders such as black coffee, coffee, tea and hot chocolate. Liam notices how easily she’s settled in, handing completed orders to customers with a genuine smile that stretches from one cheek to the other, and giving them an encouraging nod as if to say, ‘we got this’.

Louis’ dad never fails in picking his employees.

Somewhere after thirty-five past twelve, there’s a break in the flow. A pause in the world’s rotation. A freeze in the ticking of the clock, and Liam’s gaping, Niall’s staring at him confused, Sarah’s trying to stay out of the way and Louis’ angrily pressing buttons on the coffee machine. There’s a boy, three customers behind the current one, who glows under the light of the shop with olive skin whispering an endless promise of hope and beauty and caramel eyes with a gaze of something sweet and promising, his hair styled into an immaculate quiff that accentuates the long eyelashes that protrude out of gentle eyelids. Liam hears the beat of his heart roar over the senseless chatter of the crowd, the loud crescendo of passing cars and the smell of coffee more evident. It is as if his senses has heightened by a god—a god standing in front of him. And no, he’s no Apollo or Ares, does not hold the beauty of Aphrodite or the charm of Athena. He is an unnamed God, a God himself.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate with whipped cream,” the pipsqueak voice of an elderly woman breaks Liam’s trance and he feels the harsh nudge of Niall’s elbow behind him.

He scowls at himself and nods his head, proceeding to accept her payment and give her change. His heart beats faster and faster as he gets through another customer, and by the time this enigmatic boy stands before him, he thinks he might break because it’s unfair for someone to have such a beautifully formed cheekbone structure and it’s rude to have someone with such chiselled features to be standing right before him. There’s an unprecedented feeling of adrenaline slithering through his veins, a feeling of uneasiness spawning at the pits of his stomach and somewhere within him, a chrysalis has torn open and a butterfly is currently flapping its wings against his ribcage causing a nervous sensation to overcome him. He’s certain there’s sweat on his forehead as a gleeful smile greets him and his hands are tenuously trembling against the buttons of the cash register.

He misses his order for the first time as he hears his voice. Oh god, how calm and gentle and sweet his voice is and Liam wonders whether it’ll sound the same when he’s pounding into him and making him sweat and – what?

“I said I’ll have the black coffee, mate.”

Liam nods furiously, desperate to hide the tinge of pink becoming more prominent with each second this beautiful stranger is standing in front of him. The boy hands over the exact money and Liam puts it into the register and when he looks back up, he finds a face of a woman in front of him and the boy has moved to the right where Louis is handing out orders. Liam is much slower with the next orders just so he can take a few seconds to steal fleeting glances at the boy and at some occasions their eyes both meet but it’s Liam who looks away and busies himself with his work just to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

After the tenth or eleventh look, Liam finds the spot the boy was standing in to be empty. He hears the clinging of the doorbell and quickly looks to find the boy exiting the shop. The sky seems brighter now and the clouds of grey have dispersed to reveal the sun blazing in all its might and glory. There’s an empty feeling gnawing at Liam’s skin. He’s a little off focus from then on, the boy he just saw, he wonders whether it was a ghost he was witnessing because he was in and out within seconds.

But some ghosts like to haunt things, and Liam wouldn’t mind if this one haunted him forever.

-

It is coming up to the end of his shift and Liam’s been completely off focus: he’s tripped over more than several times, forgotten orders and gave the incorrect amount of change. He’s mind has been swamped by the overwhelming thought of the boy. Liam thinks it’s the slickness of his hair and natural beauty of his face that his swimming in a pool of confused emotions.

Sarah’s looking completely defeated as she watches the sun retreat behind the frame of a tall building. It’s nearly six and Niall’s still full of energy, buzzing around serving customers left, right and centre. Louis remains in a foul and grumpy mood, swiping the tables with a moist cloth towel like there is an irremovable stain there.

Liam stopped concerning and let him deal with the problem by himself because that’s how Louis functioned. He’ll hurt inside and the ‘Tomlinson’ will come out before he’s all chirpy and slightly less sassy and humorously generous and funny and everything Liam loves about Louis.

“We’ve got’a do somefin, mate,” Niall says over his shoulder, resting a pointed chin on his broad shoulder. “Do you know what’s wrong with ‘im?”

Liam looks back at Louis, who is now carrying the tray of dirty plates and mugs towards the back of the café. He notices the tenuous movements of Louis lips—the profanities flowing out those candy lips like Angel Falls. Liam looks back at Niall, who is still all smiles and the same happy-go-lucky persona he sports, and shrugs with a heavy sigh.

Niall’s about to respond but the loud cheers and goofy faces outside the door cause’s him to cease. There’s a flash of brown eyes and messy doggy hair that’s never looked so good on someone before there’s the usual clang of the café door opening. Ashton walks in with a cute bop to his step and the confident grin he always wear, and a shyer boy closely follows with a kit of sun-kissed blonde hair tucked neatly under a grey beanie. His tongue plays with the silver hoop that pierces the left side of his lips and eyes so reserved that even Liam can’t help but find him a little bit adorable.

“Sup, bitches,” Louis calls from the back and the woman Sarah is serving looks at him with shock eyes – Liam thinks she’s about to have a heart attack – while two small children behind her innocently cover their eyes with petite hands.

Liam rolls his eyes in exasperation but the sigh he releases speaks more of affection. Ashton’s cackling but there’s also a fondness to it that the café welcomes. Luke, the boy behind him, gives a weak smile but avoids everyone’s gaze – especially Niall’s – and when he notices Niall’s hand on the new girl’s shoulder there’s a small falter in his smile, the glimmer in his eyes disappearing for a fleeting moment like the sun shutdown and rebooted.

“Hey there, Lou!” The Australian accent is thick and evident and a young girl and a teenage boy immediately look at him with endearing eyes but lustful minds.

Liam sees this and grins because, yeah, Ashton’s attractive and he’s Australian and he can certainly wrestle my kangaroo any day. Ashton grins back at him before coming in for a hug but Liam puts a hand up because he’s still on duty and that wouldn’t be professional. There’s a roll of eyes before Ashton nods and heads into the back room with Luke tailing him. Niall watches Luke go and maybe it’s the blinding light finally penetrating his perception but he swears Luke steals him a glance and offers a smile he’s never seen the kid express before.

And maybe the sudden thump in his chest is due to the lack of alcohol in his system.

Maybe.  
-

“Enjoy the night shift, lads!” Niall waves at Ashton and Luke who have begun serving the evening rush.

Ashton glares at him while Luke turns away to hide the tinge of pink forming on his soft cheeks. Niall’s hand immediately drops as he watches Luke turn away and he ignores the pinprick of pain that shoots through his chest. He shakes his head and looks back at Liam, Louis and Sarah.

“Right, I think we should celebrate Sarah getting this job with a night out in town, don’t ‘cha think so, leymo?” Niall offers, winking at Liam.

Liam groans. “Do we have to?”

“I think it is better we do. You know, cheer us all up a bit.” Niall nods his head towards Louis.

Louis’ lost. His eyes wander absently at the ink black sky above and listens to the song of the night. He hears between the roar of cars and the mindless chatter of passing people a whisper of words – Why don’t we go somewhere only we know – and his hands grip firmly at the pocket edges of his denim jacket, his thumb looking for something to hold onto but not quite finding anything.

Liam really wants to go home and watch a Batman film and maybe even relax in the bath. He wants to enjoy a bowl of cereals while reading an edition of Avengers. He really doesn’t want to go out but the crestfallen expression on Louis’ face and the absence of blue in his eyes tug at his heart like puppet strings and he’d be really selfish to refuse this.

“Fine, we’ll go out.” Liam sighs and rubs on his chin, the stubble lightly pricking his fingers.

Louis looks unaffected. Or maybe he doesn’t even know of the plan they just made. His eyes are still searching for something. Liam also looks up at the sky. The moon’s there, smiling a gentle glow, illuminating the streets with a promise of hope.

“Come on, Lou,” Sarah speaks, linking her arms through his. Louis looks at her blankly for a second and Liam wonders if he is going to tell her to fuck off or something like that, but he is shocked to see Louis’ face transform into one of understanding and thanks and under the dazzling light of the moon, Liam thinks he’s staring at a broken angel whose wings have flown off without him.


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy beat and strong music vibrates through Liam as they walk towards the entrance of Louis’ favourite night club. There’s a sign burning bright in a plethora of bright neon colours – blue, red, pink, yellow, orange – spelling the words ‘Parkway’ and stood under the sign stands a bulky bald man clad all in black with a walkie-talkie in hand and fierce eyes parked on the approaching group.   
Liam doesn’t do well with social interactions. Even if he knows he’s over the age to get in, he can’t help but feel nervous when he sees the flex of those humongous muscles on the giant standing in front of them and how his eyes seethe with impatience and seriousness.   
He’s glad he has Niall to do all the talking.

Except Niall’s mind is currently away, wandering into the unknown realms of his heart, where it whispers the name of the boy in the beanie with a cute smile and sexy lip piercing. Niall’s absentmindedly playing with his fingers while his eyes stare forward but is lost somewhere else. A tape plays in a loop in his mind – a flash of his smile, a bow of his head, and meeting of eyes – and the feeling he got then he feels again; the same feeling he gets when his dad tells him how proud he is of him or when his mum always reminds him she loves him: it’s this feeling of pride and love he can’t seem to shake off or understand, especially when it concerns Luke. 

There’s a silence in the stars and the moon blanketed between two dusky clouds. The roar of the cars speeding by and the toxic mix of aftershave is all that occupies Liam as the bouncer poised in a ‘don’t fuck with me’ manner – arms folded, legs shoulder-width apart – regards him. 

‘Wahey! You alright, mate?’ Niall starts, raising his hand for a high five or something.

The guy’s face drops and his eyes speak of exasperation, a story where he’s met groups like them countless of times and he really hates his job and is just doing this for the money and the sigh tells Liam he’s fed up. 

It’s funny, Liam thinks, how this guy will one day grow up and tell his grandchildren of the days in which he dealt with reckless teenagers who dared enter a club with a fake ID in hand, fought with inebriated bastards who can’t help but become violent under the effects of alcohol. Tell them of the numbers of ID and faces he’s looked at and compared. In his mind, a library of faces registered for that one second, then the next morning it will be like that library has been burgled; gone from his mind, each face he saw last night will blend into his conscience and leave behind a thought, an idea on how someone might have looked like – but it will never be the real thing.

That’s why Liam hates looking back to the past: sometimes memories are too painful to remember, sometimes they’re just nightmares created by our conscience and sometimes memories were made to be forgotten. 

‘I’m gonna need some ID, lads,’ he stares for a second, eyes black under the unlit sky.

Everyone in the group pulls out their ID and one-by-one present it to the bouncer, who scrutinises each one with a pointed nose and a chin poised as if balancing a cup of tea. The group gets inside without any trouble and suddenly the vibrations shake each of them as blasts of heavy bass accompanied by random electronic sounds assaults the whole room. 

It is a large cub, with a main dance floor where groups of people are already mindlessly dancing – a girl grinding against an inebriated boy who stares and grabs with predatory hands, there’s two girls kissing passionately with desperate fingers locking onto a patch of a white shirt and strands of red hair, their eyes closed, seeing and feeling each other in the small world they’ve created for each other – and the bar was just in front of you as you walked in. There’s a girl behind the bar, serving customers who feel the need of alcohol in their system to suddenly gain the balls to: a) talk to strangers, b) flirt with strangers, c) ask stranger to come home for a quick and meaningless fuck session. Liam doesn’t understand it, so he limits his alcohol consumption. 

‘I’m gonna go get a drink,’ Niall says, a bright smile shining luminously in an array of yellow, white, red, purple and green dance lights, ‘Tommo, let me get you one, bro.’

There’s still a delay between Louis and the real world as his eyes wonder restlessly around the club, with tip-toeing here and a craning of the neck there, a form of desperation reveals itself and Liam wonders why. 

But he does catch up, and he does say, ‘Sure mate, I’d love one. Get me a pint of Strongbow, yeah?’

Niall nods and heads off through the crowd with a doe-eyed Sarah following close behind. The smell of alcohol and sweat finally reaches Liam and he has his hands shoved deep down his jeans with an awkward smile resting upon flat lips as he stares bewildered at the still surveying Louis. 

‘Looking for someone?’ Liam asks, leaning his head a little closer to Louis because the music just went up in volume and there’s already a heavy ringing sound forming in the shell of his ears. 

Louis seems to snap out of his trance and stares at Liam with an appalled countenance. ‘No, why would you say that?’ Louis says, but even as he says it there’s a small shift in the direction of his eyes, as if he feels that if he keeps looking, the thing he’s looking for will just pop out of nowhere. 

Liam shrugs because, honestly, he’d rather have a friendly Louis rather than the bitchy, sassy-assed Tommo he sometimes finds intimidating and unnecessarily cruel. ‘Dunno, man, just seems like you’re looking for someone.’

What Liam doesn’t know is that there’s a reason as to why this is Louis’ favourite club: which is mainly because this is also a certain-someone’s favourite club, too. In fact, this club was where these two met and have been meeting for the past month or so.

So when Louis finally spots him by the bar, talking to a bartender he’s never seen before, there’s an instant withdrawal from within Louis and suddenly he’s all bowed head, flushed cheeks and flustered eyes. He doesn’t understand how that mop of curly hair and dimpled cheeks can make him act so childish and the complete opposite to his natural behaviour. He hates how those eyes of emerald green can shimmer with a glint of hope and serenity then suddenly glow with hunger whenever he looks at Louis. 

So he retreats and drags Liam to the dance floor, looking back for one second to find that wide smile upon lips that’s so easily mistaken to think that pink lipstick runs along the jagged lines of it and the same green eyes he’s been seeing whenever he closed his eyes. 

They say the eyes are the windows to your soul, but Louis thinks this guy has trespassed through that window and built a den in his soul and he just wants him out.

As their gaze meet, an instant heat swells through Louis’ core and he has to pry his eyes away before he does something stupid like drool at the sight of him clad in a black buttoned shirt, which is only half buttoned, leaving a nice view of his hairless chest, a pair of black jeans and brown leather boots that make him look older than he actually is. Louis turns around and heads for the bathrooms on the opposite side of the club, barging into every people his shoulders could reach, while dragging an even more confused Liam with him. 

The music dampens as the toilet door closes, and a strong smell of urine greets Louis and Liam, in the background a silent collection of gasps and moans can be heard emanating from the furthest cubicle from the door. Louis doesn’t stop until he’s dragged Liam into a cubicle and locked the door behind him. 

‘What the fuck?’ Liam looks at Louis with wide eyes and under the lifeless, dull yellow light coming from the fluorescent light tube, his eyes are a rich muddy colour. 

Louis places a finger to Liam’s lips, hushing all Liam’s questions and thoughts. ‘Shut up! I think he’s gonna follow us in here.’  
‘Who the hell is ‘he’?’ Liam says against Louis’ fingers, he can still taste the coffee and washing up liquid on them.

Louis doesn’t say anything but stares emptily at the cubicle, waiting for something – a strike of a hand, a climactic moan, a knock on the door – and Liam’s getting a little bit annoyed. 

Liam’s about to say something else when the toilet door opens and a soft ‘Louis?’ follows. The voice sounds tender, like the tongue was a cradle built to hold the softest of babies, and Liam can physically feel Louis tense up. Suddenly Liam starts to feel hot, as his breaths glides across Louis’ ears and he stares aimlessly at the deteriorating blue wall behind Louis. 

There’s a second of silence, or maybe a minute, or an hour but God damn I wish Louis would get off me is all Liam thinks. Then the door closes and Louis relaxes. 

‘Who is that?’

Louis looks defeated. For once in his life, the happy, always cheery, always in charge Louis he knows stares with empty blue eyes and he closes them for a second, enough to make Liam notice the heavy frown plastered on those once cheeky lips. 

‘Louis?’ He says, fully concerned and worried. 

But Louis is no longer standing in front of him; dejection is the one looking at Liam. 

Harry. Harry Styles,’ he whispers in a broken voice, ‘the guy who cheated on me.’


End file.
